


room to fall apart

by aditlep6



Series: quiet, tender, sincere [2]
Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oral Sex, Penetrative Sex, Porn With Plot, Trans Male Character, Trans Oma Kokichi, domestic chaos, youve heard of domestic fluff now get ready for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:20:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28807200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aditlep6/pseuds/aditlep6
Summary: He opts to test the doorknob. It’s unlocked, which has been an increasingly common occurrence since giving Ouma his spare key in case of emergencies.Instead, Ouma has taken complete advantage of his free reign. Saihara might be upset if it wasn’t so nice to come home to someone.
Relationships: Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi
Series: quiet, tender, sincere [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2112006
Comments: 20
Kudos: 108





	room to fall apart

**Author's Note:**

> continuation of my [previous fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28599444) but can be read as a standalone!
> 
> once again, more trans-friendly terms are used to refer to ouma
> 
> title is a lyric from happy by mother mother
> 
> enjoy!

Saihara balances a paper grocery bag in one arm while he digs in his coat pocket for his keys, but upon hearing the clinking of dishes coming from inside his apartment, he opts to test the doorknob. It’s unlocked, which has been an increasingly common occurrence since giving Ouma his spare key in case of emergencies.

Instead, Ouma has taken complete advantage of his free reign. Saihara might be upset if it wasn’t so nice to come home to someone.

He pushes the door open and is met with a cloud of bitter smoke, immediately stinging his eyes and sneaking into his nostrils. He’s coughing before he even knows what’s happening.

“I would close that door if I were you, Saihara-chan,” Ouma’s familiar voice rings out with no urgency. “I took the batteries out of this smoke detector, but you don’t want the one in the hallway going off!” 

Saihara drops his bag unceremoniously, cringing at the sharp sound the glass bottle within makes as it hits the floor, and waves his hands in front of his face to clear some air for breathing. He kicks the door shut behind him and manages to open his eyes, helped by the natural tears from irritation. He sees Ouma halfheartedly waving a hand towel over the stove to thin out the smoke. There aren’t any actual flames, the burner is off, and the smoke isn’t billowing.

Crossing the room, he opens the windows closest to the kitchen, which are still quite far from the source. Ouma was right, he can’t open the door or else the hall sprinklers might go off. It’s easier to see over here, so he peers into the kitchen to watch Ouma finally putting the burning pan in the sink and running water over it. If the pan wasn’t already ruined, it probably is now, but Saihara would rather have a burnt pan than a burnt kitchen. Or a burnt boyfriend.

“Ouma-kun, are you alright? What happened?” He approaches cautiously, waving his hand to move the slow dissipation along. 

“It’s no biggie, Saihara-chan. This happens every time I cook.”

“ _Every time?_ ” Saihara’s concern is quickly subsiding into annoyance. “Then why bother cooking at all?” 

“To help out, of course!” Ouma turns the water off and spins to face Saihara with a bright smile, leaning back against the counter. “Y’know, since my beloved boyfriend works so hard all day, he deserves to come home to a nice meal.”

The smoke has thinned enough for Saihara to notice the absolute disarray his kitchen is in. It looks like every pot and pan he owns has been used since he left for work, but there’s no food to be found, other than scraps from where vegetables were cut and meat was trimmed. He closes the gap between them under the guise of giving Ouma a greeting kiss and hug, but takes the opportunity to look over Ouma’s shoulder. There’s a sizeable amount of burnt, soaked stir-fry in the pan. 

“It’s your fault I burned it, y’know,” Ouma says mid-hug. Saihara pulls away, scandalized.

“How is it my fault? I wasn’t even here!”

“That’s exactly it! I was on the last step of the recipe when I realized my beloved was on his way home, and I needed to make sure I looked nice for him! So I ran to the bathroom-”

Saihara cuts him off. “Are you saying you burned dinner because you were too busy looking in the mirror?” Ouma giggles and doesn’t elaborate further. Before Saihara can huff and pull away, Ouma is leaning up for another kiss. He doesn’t have time to dodge and returns it out of habit. 

Ouma is already chattering away by the time Saihara pulls back, turning in his embrace to examine the cluttered kitchen. “Not all is lost, though! There’s no way I could mess up the rice. I may be a college dropout, but there’s no way someone as broke as me could ruin the most basic of…” 

As he rambles, Saihara scans the scene before them, and notices the only appliance that hadn’t been used was the rice cooker. Ouma seems to notice this at around the same time. 

“Shit, I forgot to put the rice on.” There’s an uncharacteristic attitude of defeat in Ouma’s voice, but it’s gone so quickly Saihara can’t tell if it’s genuine. He spins back around fast enough for his hair to smack Saihara’s cheek. “Can we get takeout now? Pwetty pwease? I’m _starving,_ Saihara-chan, I’m going to _die_ unless I get something to eat!”

“Alright, alright,” Saihara wipes away one of Ouma’s stray hairs that got caught on his cheek and reaches into his pocket for his phone, considering their options. 

“Uh, Saihara, I think your bag, um…” He looks up from his phone, but Ouma isn’t looking at him; he’s looking at the tile floor, and Saihara follows his gaze to the quickly growing puddle of deep red liquid seeping through the paper bag and over the linoleum, creeping dangerously close to the living room carpet. 

Instinctively, Saihara hands Ouma his phone and snatches the roll of paper towels off of the counter, rushing over and starting to make a barrier to catch the liquid before it can stain anything. It soaks through the paper quickly, and he goes through most of the roll just trying to keep the puddle contained. He looks up and asks for more, but Ouma doesn’t react, tapping away at Saihara’s phone. 

“Ouma-kun? Some help would be nice,” he calls out a bit louder. Ouma hums, makes a final few taps on the phone, and sets it down, promptly rushing to the closet to grab another roll. 

“Sorry! I was doing something.” He hands Saihara one of the rolls and makes no effort to help otherwise. “Is this wine, Saihara-chan? Do you have a drinking problem? You’re not gonna suck the wine out of the towels, are you? I’d have to stage an intervention!” Saihara doesn’t need to look up to know that crocodile tears are streaming down Ouma’s face. 

“I got it for _us,_ ” he explains, exasperated, “I thought it would be nice with the stir fry I planned on making for dinner tonight.” He can’t help his condescending tone.

“But I don’t drink wine.” Ouma’s fake tears are already gone. 

“Wh- but… I asked you what you drank, and you said wine!” 

“I was _lying,_ Saihara-chan, that’s kind of what I do. I knew you were enough of an old lady to drink that stuff!” 

Saihara gives up on arguing about it further, soaking up the last bit of wine and dumping the towels in the garbage can, along with the empty bottle that only had the slightest crack at the bottom, but was still ruined. There were a few other things in the grocery bag — a little pouch of candies that Ouma liked to pick at during the day, and two individually packaged slices of cake, one sweet with strawberries and the other dense with chocolate. The strawberry one was meant for Ouma, but he tends to “taste-test” whatever Saihara is eating too, and ends up getting the majority of both of their desserts. 

The packaging is all intact, so Saihara rinses the outsides to make sure they don’t get sticky and puts the cakes in the fridge, pouring out the pouch of candies in the dish in the living room. He also sprays the floor and runs a mop over it to ensure there isn’t any residue left. 

Once the soaked bag is discarded and the wine disaster is cleaned up, Saihara realizes Ouma has been oddly quiet for a few minutes and sees him seated at the kitchen table, watching Saihara work. His expression brightens once Saihara notices him, and he holds out his arms like he wants to be picked up. “Are you done yet? Can I make it up to you now?” 

Saihara ignores whatever Ouma is implying to survey the kitchen once more, wondering where to begin cleaning that mess up, but his motivation wavers before he decides. “Didn’t you want to order takeout? I didn’t get far enough before the…”

Ouma’s arms fall to his sides. “I already did! That’s why I was on your phone. But the restaurant is busy, since it’s Friday night, so they said it’ll be two hours. But they’ll call you!” 

“Two hours? I thought you were starving…? We could have found somewhere else, o-or there’s other food around here, unless you burned all of that, too…”

Ouma scowls and raises his arms once more, waving them around obnoxiously. “It’s fine, I _said_ I was going to make it up to you!” Saihara approaches warily, not sure what Ouma has in mind. Ouma clings as soon as Saihara is in reach and crawls up onto him so he’s not touching the chair or floor anymore, legs wrapped around Saihara’s waist and arms around his neck. The maneuvering involved is somewhat impressive, even if Saihara has to pull him up the rest of the way with hands under his thighs. “You know where I wanna go,” Ouma mumbles in his ear, his voice much lower than before, “so quit being so dense and take me there.” 

Despite the pang of excitement that rushes through Saihara, he stays in place. “Ouma-kun, you don’t have to make anything up to me. You didn’t burn dinner on purpose. You were trying to do something nice for me, so I’m not mad at all.”

Ouma huffs in his ear and shifts impatiently in his grasp. “Of course you’re not mad at me, it’s all _your_ fault, after all! I’m just trying to make you feel better.” 

“But you said you were going to make it up to me… so you do feel guilty, then?” 

He bites Saihara’s neck, not very hard, but enough to draw a surprised gasp. “Stop asking stupid questions and _fuck me_ already.” Saihara doesn’t need to be told twice.

The spontaneous intimacy isn’t unlike Ouma. Saihara has figured out that Ouma was holding himself back until their first time, and now he initiates almost every time they’re alone, which is progressively often. Now that Saihara thinks about it, Ouma has been here for a week, and they’ve had sex almost every night. Not that Saihara can’t match Ouma’s enthusiasm, but he’d rather they talked about it more rather than depending on actions and implications. 

He carries Ouma to the bedroom, as he has several times already, and tries to deposit him on the sheets. Ouma keeps clinging and tugs him down, quickly rolling on top and pinning Saihara on his back. 

“Ow! Hey-” Ouma scoots backwards and looks down, glaring in the general direction of Saihara’s coat pocket. “I think your keys poked me. That’s not the kind of bulge I want to feel, mister detective!” 

“Well, let me get my coat off…” He realizes his shoes are still on as well. Ouma sits back on Saihara’s hips, but doesn’t give him much wiggle room to remove his clothing. After some straining, huffing, and stray elbows, Saihara removes his winter coat and the jacket he wears over his work shirt. Before he can begin unbuttoning the rest, Ouma stops him and slides off the bed entirely, working on Saihara’s pants and tugging his shoes and boxers off with them. He must sense Saihara’s incredulous look, because he looks up and justifies, “What? I wanted to watch you strip, but I got impatient.” 

Ouma removes his own pants and boxers but leaves his sweater on. He rummages around in the nightstand drawer, where they keep a steadily diminishing supply of lube and condoms. Ouma grabs both and crawls back onto Saihara, plopping his cute butt down on Saihara’s soft but sensitive dick. 

The condom lands on the mattress, but Ouma pops the cap of the lube open. “What are you doing?” The urgency in Saihara’s voice prompts Ouma to look up through his bangs. 

“Getting myself ready for you! I thought I’d give you a little show.”

“You don’t have to go so fast,” Saihara persuades. “We have two hours, right? I’d rather help you than watch.” Not that he’s opposed to watching, but he hates feeling useless when Ouma does all the work. 

Ouma seems to contemplate this and tosses the bottle aside with a smirk. “If Saihara-chan thinks he can go a whole two hours, I’ll take him up on that offer.” He sits up on his knees and begins a half-crawl up Saihara’s torso, stopping before getting too close. “Is this okay?”

“More than okay,” Saihara confirms and gets a firm grip on Ouma’s thighs, pulling so Ouma lowers himself. Saihara has used his mouth on Ouma before, but not in this position, and the shyness radiates palpably from both of them, only surpassed by anticipation. 

Once Ouma is close enough, Saihara begins by licking a shallow stripe up the crease of Ouma’s folds, not probing deeper. He hears Ouma’s breath hitch above him and fingers tangle in his hair. Ouma spreads his knees further, Saihara’s lips and chin tucked comfortably against him. Now with easier access, Saihara can taste the sensitive inner skin he finds, leaving careful strokes with his tongue and withdrawing with reverent kisses. He can tell when he finds a particularly sensitive place by the way Ouma’s thighs tremble around him and his hair gets tugged on.

Ouma shifts his hips, obviously trying to get Saihara to pay attention to his cock. He succeeds in brushing it against Saihara’s nose, but Saihara decides to lather attention on his front hole instead. Making up for the wetness that has yet to come, he runs the flat of his tongue over the entrance and traces it in languid circles until he tastes a gush of Ouma’s arousal, sticky sweet. Ouma whimpers and starts rocking his hips back and forth almost imperceptibly. 

Saihara steadies him with the grip on his thighs and tilts his head back so he can finally wrap his lips around Ouma’s cock. The size and shape of it make it easy to bob his head and suck like Ouma would do to his. He can only do it in short bursts, though, due to Ouma’s oversensitivity, so he slips back down to Ouma’s entrance to push his tongue inside. Ouma’s entire body shudders and he bears down on Saihara’s tongue, trying to take him deeper, but Saihara was expecting it and keeps his grip tight. 

The feeling of Ouma around his tongue is divine, only beaten by the way Ouma feels around his cock, which sits heavy against his thigh, steadily throbbing in its neglect. He absolutely loves Ouma over him like this, being in control even from underneath, but wishes he could use his hands to give him more attention. He’s also a little worried about what might happen if Ouma comes while on top of him and his legs give out.

Luckily, Ouma raises himself up and off of Saihara’s face, scooting back far enough to bend down and sloppily lick into his mouth, getting a taste of himself. Saihara expects him to recoil once he realizes, but Ouma continues kissing him with passion until they both need to pull back for air. 

“Fuck,” Ouma pants against Saihara’s lips and plants pecks all over his cheeks and nose, “you’re so good to me.”

Saihara is too dazed to come up with a response, watching Ouma situate himself between Saihara’s legs and grabbing the condom where he left it. “Sorry, beloved, I’d do a little more with you, but I need you inside me _right now_ or I’ll die.”

“That’s what you said about being starving earlier, but- _ah-_ ” Saihara is cut off by Ouma stroking his cock to full attention and promptly rolling the condom on. He also coats Saihara with ample lube, just in case.

“I’m gonna try something different with Saihara-chan. You’re flexible, right? Let me know if this is uncomfortable.” Ouma hooks one hand under each of Saihara’s knees and pushes them up towards his shoulders, like Saihara was the one about to be penetrated. He’s bent almost in half, and it restricts his diaphragm a little so he can’t take a deep breath, but it’s a position he’d imagined himself being in at some point anyway. 

Ouma is frozen and seems to be waiting on approval from Saihara, but he’s still confused. “Are you… is this…”

“Reverse missionary? Yep, I figured Saihara-chan wasn’t freaky enough to have tried something like this before.” He giggles quietly. “Is it no good?” 

“It’s good,” Saihara consents. He’d seen the position before in porn, but he never thought he’d be trying it out. Ouma’s lied on his back like this for Saihara before, so there’s no reason he can’t endure it in return. He’s not even the one being penetrated, not that he’s opposed to that, either. 

“Okay,” Ouma acknowledges and gets into position, letting go of one of Saihara’s knees just long enough to position his cock against his entrance. He lowers himself enough to be sure that Saihara won’t slip out of him, then returns to holding the back of Saihara’s knee. 

They groan in unison, the feeling of being inside Ouma always breathtaking, literally. He can see the flush high on Ouma’s cheeks and the sheen of sweat breaking out on his forehead, and he hasn’t even started moving yet. 

When he does, it’s not up and down like he would if he were riding; the position allows for a back and forth thrust, more like he’s fucking into Saihara instead of the other way around. When the speed picks up and their hips meet, it’s like he’s pounding into Saihara, and the simulation of penetration makes his head hazy, especially with the intense pleasure of Ouma hot and tight around him. 

Ouma praises him between breaths, “Saihara-chan, you- _hah-_ you look so good like this, pounding you-”

“F-Feels good,” Saihara agrees, “you feel so good, _fuck,_ w-we should get a strap, you should fuck me like this more…”

Ouma’s hips stutter, and then slow, and then stop. “Is this not good enough for you?”

Saihara assumes he’s teasing and looks up through his watery eyes, getting ready to beg, but Ouma’s expression is blank. “Ouma-kun…? I-I don’t know what you mean, this is amazing.”

“If you want a cock to rail you so bad, you should get a boyfriend with one,” Ouma hisses, but doesn’t dismount. The physical strain the position puts on Saihara is harder to deal with without the onslaught of pleasure, and it makes it difficult for him to clear his thoughts. 

“That’s not what I meant,” he rushes to elaborate, “I didn’t mean… I love you, Ouma-kun, I-I just thought, since you like me in this position… I thought that was something you might like to do. I see now why that might make you uncomfortable.” Ouma hums and rolls his hips a few times, causing Saihara to tense up beneath him in surprise. 

“It doesn’t,” Ouma eventually mutters. “Make me uncomfortable, I mean. Just caught me off guard. Sorry.” He pulls himself up and off of Saihara, letting go of his legs. “Sit up, I wanna kiss you when I make you come.” 

“I’m sorry too.” Saihara smiles in relief and sits on the edge of the bed so Ouma can rest in his lap more comfortably. Ouma wastes no time throwing a leg over Saihara’s thighs and taking hold of his cock so he can sink down onto it once more with a contented sigh. “ _Ah-_ I-I love everything you do, Ouma-kun, a-and everything about you… I think we should talk more about these things, so that doesn’t happen again.”

Ouma begins a steady pace, barely moving, more like a deep grind. He kisses Saihara’s lips chastely a few times. “Right now? I’m a little busy,” he argues.

“N-Not the whole conversation… but you are a lot more honest when you’re like this.” He regrets saying it, afraid that Ouma might take even more offense, but Ouma just chuckles and buries his face in Saihara’s neck, picking up speed. 

“We can talk about it while you’re doing the dishes. Just shut up and come already,” he murmurs into the skin of Saihara’s neck. He latches on with his teeth, and Saihara has to tug him away by his hair to make sure he doesn’t leave a mark that can’t be covered by his work clothes. Ouma seems to take this as a challenge and attacks his lips with nips and bites instead, bouncing on Saihara’s cock in earnest. Saihara’s mouth is too occupied to warn Ouma that he’s close, but it’s obvious by the way his entire body shivers under Ouma’s movement and an embarrassingly high-pitched whimper is ripped from his throat. 

Ouma keeps up the pace until Saihara twitches with overstimulation and pulls off, rolling out of his lap and sitting next to him on the edge of the bed while he comes down from the rush. 

Saihara wonders why Ouma pulled away so soon, since he usually prefers to cling afterwards, but sparing a glance at him shows how he’s still flushed and panting. “Shit, sorry,” he drops to his knees on the floor with little care and positions himself between Ouma’s legs, tugging him closer to the edge of the bed and prying his thighs apart. A quick look at Ouma’s face to check if it’s okay shows nothing but anticipation, so Saihara presses hurried kisses along Ouma’s wet folds and wastes no time holding him open with his thumbs. 

He licks from Ouma’s slick entrance all the way up to his throbbing cock, relishing his sweet taste while he sucks and bobs his head. He keeps Ouma’s thighs from clenching around him with one hand and teases his entrance with the other, easily slipping two fingers in. Ouma’s hands tug harshly at his hair, trying to bring him in closer, so he gives one last hard suck to Ouma’s cock before a fresh wave of his arousal soaks his hand as he comes, hard. 

Saihara keeps his mouth on Ouma as he rides it out, moving his fingers in shallow thrusts a few more times to prolong it until the hands in his hair push him away instead of pulling him closer. He wipes his hand on his shirt and pulls his collar up to wipe his mouth, not realizing the ache in his knees until he stands from the floor and wraps Ouma in a tight embrace. Ouma returns it, wrapping his arms around Saihara’s waist.

After a few moments of catching their breath, Ouma breaks the quiet. “We gotta get cleaned up if we’re gonna go get dinner,” he lilts, pushing Saihara away and rummaging through the pile of clothes on the floor. 

“What? I thought you ordered-”

“That was a lie, Saihara-chan,” Ouma holds Saihara’s boxers out to him and gestures at the condom he’s still wearing. Saihara takes care of it with a blush. “The smoke killed my appetite, so I didn’t wanna eat just yet.”

“Then what were you doing on my phone?” He doesn’t mind Ouma being on his phone, but whatever he was doing was important enough to almost let wine ruin Saihara’s carpet. He tugs on his boxers but takes off his soiled shirt.

“Changing your relationship status,” Ouma says casually. He puts his own boxers back on, which must soak them with how wet he is, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “I noticed it still said ‘Single,’ so I updated it. You probably have about a hundred messages from friends and family asking ‘Who’s the lucky girl?’ by now.” His voice is playful, but Saihara senses a distant hurt behind it.

“Ouma-kun, I’m sorry, I just never go on there anymore. I didn’t even think about changing it. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Wow, Saihara-chan thinks he can hurt my feelings so easily? He’ll have to try a lot harder than that!” He tugs his pants on, his back to Saihara.

“I’ve hurt your feelings, like, twice tonight,” he laments and touches Ouma’s shoulder, trying to get him to turn around. It doesn’t work. 

“Three times. But I know I’m not easy to live with, so I can’t blame you for getting frustrated.”

“No, that’s wrong.” Saihara steps around Ouma himself, holding both shoulders so he can’t escape. “I love having you here, Ouma-kun. I-I want you to be here more, um… will you move in with me?” 

Ouma stares at Saihara for several seconds until he bursts out laughing. “You’re so funny, Saihara-chan!” He laughs until Saihara’s expression settles into confusion, then stops. “Saihara, you don’t seriously… you think I haven’t been living with you for like, a week already?” 

Saihara blinks and looks around his own bedroom. Sure, a toothbrush appeared at the bathroom sink, and there’s a small suitcase full of Ouma’s clothing stashed under the bed, along with some new blankets shoved into the linen closet, but that’s it. “You’ve been staying here, I suppose, but I mean you should bring all of your things here, a-and I can put you on the lease, and-”

“ _Shuichi._ These are all of my things. All of my things have been here for a week now. And don’t you dare put me on any paperwork, because my name isn’t really Ouma Kokichi and you’d be arrested for fraud.” His face curls up in a sly grin. “That was a lie. But these are all my things. And if you haven’t noticed, I can’t exactly pay rent, so if that’s a dealbreaker, let me know now. Which is why I, y’know, tried cooking, since I’m terrible at cleaning or holding a job or going to school or… whatever. I’m pretty good at fucking though, aren’t I? Please say yes.”

Saihara practically lunges to take Ouma in a hug, even though Ouma is fully clothed and he’s only in his boxers. Ouma lets out a sound like the wind got knocked out of him, but wraps his arms around Saihara in return. “Ouma-kun, you don’t owe me anything. You don’t have to cook, or clean, or have sex with me to live here. Just… let me love you, and take care of you. A-And talk to me about the things that make you upset.”

There’s a terse silence while Saihara waits for a reaction, but instead hears a sob muffled against his shoulder. He tries to pull back, but Ouma holds him close. “Stupid Saihara-chan… you have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.” He hiccups and continues to hide his face.

“And I can’t wait to find out,” Saihara says, petting his hair and kissing the crown of his head.

After a few minutes of soft crying, Ouma pulls away like nothing ever happened. “Hey, Shuichi, can we get a cat?”

“Don’t push it, Ouma-kun,” Saihara chastises, already brainstorming names. 

**Author's Note:**

> if you know what meme ouma burning dinner is referring to i give you a kiss
> 
> find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/togamitarai)
> 
> thank you for reading!


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